


replace the feathers in our vests

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne was actually a crimelord; the Robins were all boys who met on the street and were adopted as his ‘sons’; finally, Dick grabs his little brothers and runs. Written for Comment Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	replace the feathers in our vests

Everything is packed and set to go. They aren't taking much, just enough to get by, and just enough cash taken from their bank accounts not to look suspicious. Tim sits on the bed next to his backpack, reading one of several books that's been handed down to him over the years. Jason is – pacing.

"Hey," Dick says. "You ready?"

Jason stops, scowls at him. He does that all the time now, like it's Dick's stupid fault they're in this mess – and it is.

Jason rolls his shoulders. He's taller than Dick now, broad where Dick is lithe. In the last year he's become one of Bruce's heavy-hitters, while Dick still keeps to the shadows, waiting to strike if –

If.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jason asks him. Tim looks up from his book, but stays silent as ever. Tim –

Jason was thirteen the first time he came back to the manor with someone else's blood on his clothes. He hadn't said a word, just let Dick clean him up and laughed when Dick said, "Well, we're not starving anymore, are we?"

He laughed for too long.

Tim is fifteen now, as old as Dick was when Bruce took them in, and he still hasn't been sent out, hasn't been _tested_. He's trained as hard as they have, but there's a chance he'd never have to do what Dick and Jason do. "Those brains," Bruce always says, "I could use brains like those. Keep an _eye_ on things."

What Bruce doesn't seem to get is that Tim's been doing that for years.

"Jason," Dick says now. "I can't do this without you."

"Yeah, you can," Jason scoffs. "But that's not what I'm asking. I mean you know this won't end it, right? Even if he doesn't come after us, we're always –"

Dick knows what he means. He knows Jason keeps a knife underneath his pillow, a gun in his bedside drawer. He knows Jason has made _himself_ into a weapon, and Dick would be lying if he said he hadn't done the same.

They're all still Bruce's kids, wherever they go.

But they _do_ have to go. Because food and a roof over their heads or not, he never wanted to know what a gunshot to the temple looked and sounded like. Because Tim can't stay aloof forever. Because when Dick looks at Jason sometimes, after a job, he looks so much like –

"It's gonna be okay," Dick says. When Jason scowls again, Dick pulls him by the arm, drags him in close, cups Jason's face with his hands so that Jason has no choice but to shut his eyes or look at him. He looks. "I mean it, Jay. I'm not gonna let anything happen to us." He breathes out. He can feel Jason steadying underneath him, same as when they were kids and Jason would wake up from a nightmare and Dick would hold him until he stopped shaking.

"I'll kill him myself if I have to," Dick says and Jason laughs – too loud, too long, a sound like choking.

"It's gonna be okay," Dick says again. Jason nods and pulls away, but gently.

"Actually," Tim says. He looks up at them from his book. "If we don't leave soon, there's every chance Alfred will change his mind about driving us to the airport for our so-called vacation."

Jason grins, claps Tim on the shoulder. Even with years of decent meals, Tim is still small for his age. "Good point, little brother. Let's get the hell out of here."

It's easier than it should be. Bruce is out of the country for the week, which gives them at least a few day's head start – and maybe more than that. It's not the first time all three of them have gone off without notice; it's part of the image they're meant to uphold as Bruce Wayne's spoiled, partying kids.

But before, they always came back. 

Dick looks at Tim and Jason, his brothers in everything but blood. They've both been brave, and strong, and they need to be that still. "You ready?" Dick asks again, and Jason pulls Tim up, slings his arm around Tim's shoulder. They leave the room together, their shadows as tall as giants as they head down the stairs for one last time.

"You smell that?" Jason asks. "I'm pretty sure Alfred cooked us a last meal. Are you _sure_ we can't take him with us?"

Dick laughs, and the sound echoes through the empty halls. "I'll learn to cook," he promises, and Jason grins and says, "You better."


End file.
